Shedding Skins
by Evil-Aurors-of-DEATH
Summary: The truth is hard, when one is not ready to hear it... And when Harry finds out where he truly belongs, he begins to see reality in an entirely different way... An eventual HP/DM slash fic.
1. Prologue

Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

* *       * * *

Shedding Skins - _Prologue_

Draco hid in the shadows, back pressed up uncomfortably against the cold stone wall. He just couldn't face anyone. Not in this state. His entire body was rigid, near frozen from the coldness that seeped into his flesh, but his face remained as impassive as ever.

Hot tears slowly fell from his cold slate-grey eyes, the only indication that on the inside he felt like he was near dying.   
It had happened again. 

Just when he thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse, and that he had finally found a place in himself where no one could reach him.   
To be so desecrated, rendered utterly powerless did not rest easy on his proud nature, yet it was something he had come to accept. 

The abuse had become familiar to him. He had almost even come to need it, so familiar was the pain, it was at least, reassurance of his existence.   
Sometimes he felt that life was merely an illusion… it was so hard, he was so shut off from everything around him, that it felt like he was looking out at the world from a very very far away place deep within himself.   
A place which no one knew existed, let alone dared to venture into. 

He was filled with the utmost contempt for the weaklings that surrounded him, yet it was he who suffered endlessly because of the very nature of the world.   
Even after all this time, he was still not accustomed to the ways in which you were meant to interact with other people.   
As a result of that, he had never truly known what it was to have a friend, to feel close to others. And he knew that he never would. 

He had realized from a young age that he was destined to be alone. 

Thus was the Malfoy curse, to be so eternally detached, unaffected and regal that you could never know the joys of life.   
You could only guess at them, and watch all the sniveling pathetic excuses for human beings living out their misguided lives.  
Though, Draco realized with a pained smile, to them their lives, pathetic as they were, probably did hold meaning.

They had dreams... and hopes... and a naïve unshakable belief that no great tragedy would ever befall them.   
At least they didn't have to fear every shadow that crossed their path though… At least they could live without this crippling self-hatred that had been instilled in Draco from such tender age.   
What he would give to have a chance to start all over again. 

To start living from this instant, as someone else, someone who didn't have a bruised heart and a scarred body. 

Someone whose mind was clear and unwracked with guilt.   
Draco knew though, that he could never rid himself of his burden. He had seen too much of the sadistic nature of life to ever trust a feeling of safety or happiness again.   
He had seen what happened to those who put their faith in others. It would never be his fate.   
Devoid though he knew he was, he refused to ever let another fill him with foolish dreams and whispered lies.   
This so-called life felt so strange to him… as a child he had always been alone, spending endless hours amusing himself from within the endless galaxy of his own imagination. 

Other times, lonely and bored he would sit for long hours staring at the blank wall opposite him, his mind bleached of thoughts and his heart wilting with the pain of being so utterly alone in the vast unfeeling abyss of the universe.   
He felt it so keenly, his own isolation, yet it had come to be the only thing he could tolerate.   
Yet, sometimes, in some deep hidden part of him, he longed for connection.   
Longed to truly connect with another in a way that surpassed all normal modes of communication. To truly belong with another, to feel complete, and whole.   
The thought now slithered unwanted into his head, to trust another person… to know in the deepest recesses of his being that no matter what, that person would never betray him. But he knew these were dangerous fantasies.   
After all, to trust is to be betrayed. He had learnt that the hard way. He would not make the same mistakes again. No matter what.   
He would never let himself get hurt in that way again. It just hurt too much… left him floundering in a wake of pain feeling as if he would never be the same again…   
And he never was.   
What power did pain hold?   
That it could destroy dreams so effortlessly, that it could damage you so deeply that you would feel the effects for the rest of your life.   
To feel parts of you wither up and die inside you, to be tainted from the inside out, and still be compelled to wear the façade of normalcy, when you are no more than a crumbling husk of what you once were…   
Draco knew what a terrible thing this life was.   
The only thing that stopped him from crying out in agony at his cursed existence was the knowledge that his death was near.   
Absolute freedom. 

Such sweet reprieve from this hell which was called life.   
Draco slowly traced his ornate dagger over his pale-fleshed wrists, watching as blood welled up in intricate beaded patterns.

* *        *   * *


	2. Chapter One Silvered Blades and Dragon’...

Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

* * * * *

Shedding Skins – _Chapter One_

Silvered Blades and Dragon's Hearts

Harry Potter sat bolt upright in his bed in the Gryffindor boys dormitory, wondering what had woken him up. 

Flashes of what he had been dreaming floated in and out of his head. 

It had been one of his usual dreams of Voldemort hovering over him, flanked by his faithful minions, his Death Eaters, while he cowered on the ground… defenseless and petrified. 

Harry shook his head vigorously, trying to rid it of such distressing memories. 

He leaned out on the windowsill next to his bed, gazing out over the silvered Hogwarts grounds as he unconsciously rubbed his scar, his only relic of his closest brush with death.   
Harry had been close to death many times before though. It had almost become regularity. Danger and Harry Potter were practically intimate bed-fellows. 

'Damn Voldemort,' he cursed under his breath. 

His nemesis since birth had stolen his parents from him and his chance at a somewhat normal life, not to mention making him unwillingly famous and coming close to killing him more times than you could count on one hand. 

And now the bastard wouldn't even let him sleep.   
Trying hard to block out the disturbing thoughts which were creeping into his mind, Harry focused instead on his friends, Hermione, Hagrid, and Ron, who he could hear mumbling about Divination homework in his sleep. '… The 30th professor? Of February?? But I don't even drink tea…'   
Harry sighed. 

As much as he valued his friends, they didn't really understand what it was like to live constantly looking over your shoulder, always expecting the worst.   
And no-one seemed to be able to understand the guilt and pain he lived with. 

It was almost as if they avoided the very topics which could bring those feelings into prominence in Harry's mind. As if they were afraid to unearth the demons that lurked in Harry's soul.   
He couldn't blame them.

It wasn't as if they could really help, no-one could erase the pain he lived with, and the memories of the terrible things he had seen. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about it sometimes though. Someone who didn't flinch whenever Harry tried to broach the topics.   
But still, Harry thought, perhaps it was better this way. 

Who knew what horrors would start pouring out if he ever allowed another to truly see what went on inside him. 

Yes, it was for the best, he thought to himself. At least this way his friend's happiness and purity would remain intact.   
Deciding that a walk around the castle might clear his head, he pulled on his invisibility cloak over his pyjamas, shoved his wand in his pocket, and slipped quietly down the stairs to the common room.   
'Going out again, I see?' squawked the Fat Lady, the canvas guardian of the Gryffindor common room. 

Funny that, you don't, mused Harry clutching the cool cloak against him.

 The corridors shone with an ethereal light cast from the moon. Harry crept up the long winding steps, realizing that the stormy clouds' eerie shade was hiding perhaps even more mysteries about this castle in which he dwelled than even Dumbledore himself would ever know about.   
'Unhand me foul villain!' 

Harry whirled around in time to see Sir Cadogan inebriated, struggling to untangle his fat pony's reigns from around his torso.   
Grinning to himself, Harry snuck past, not much in the mood to be challenged to a duel at this late hour.   
Almost of their own will, Harry's feet led him up the many twisting staircases, to the highest room in the Astronomy tower.   
Over the last months, Harry had found some solace in sitting quietly in the deserted room, mulling over his thoughts during his many sleepless nights. 

The room had a distinct, forgotten odour to it, musky and undisturbed. Harry felt safe, hidden even during the many long hours he spent curled up in there, his own thoughts his only company. 

It was a reprieve of sorts. 

A sanctuary where he could escape from the business of everyday life. 

A place where, dare he believe it, he could be just Harry.   
Not, 'the boy who lived, and who was about to save the wizarding world once again, catch the snitch, and win the house cup...' 

No. he thought firmly to himself. 

It was the one place where he wasn't expected to be anything other than 'there'. 

Sometimes it felt almost as though the moon-light streaked room was expecting him… was waiting for him to return, to fill it with his silence and musings.   
Though Harry did not yet know it, this night would be more than a little different from any that gone before during his midnight wanderings.   
As Harry bounded up the last set of steps, he longed for the vast, eternally deep night sky which he knew was awaiting him. As the top of the tallest tower drew nearer, the chilly air made itself apparent, drawing a soft gasp.   
But it was not Harry's, though he himself had shared a similar reaction to the draft. Starkly silhouetted against the large stone window, a darkly-clad figure was evident. 

As Harry paused, debating whether to quietly walk away again, something about the stranger's stance made him pause.   
The boy, for Harry felt sure it that it was, had been leaning out of the opening, bracing himself against the stone walls, his head thrown back in the shock of the icy brace of wind which had just gone hurtling through the narrow gap. 

A shock of silvery hair was blown back, so pale; it was almost glinting in the direct light of the moon.   
'Malfoy!' 

Utterly surprised to see another person, let alone his arch-enemy in his normally deserted nightly haunt, it had taken Harry a moment to fully comprehend that Malfoy was in fact poised on the edge of the Astronomy Tower's window ledge. 

At the sound of Harry's voice, Draco had whirled around, only to be confronted with an empty, dusty room.   
Lithely, and with an air of elegance that it would seem only Draco Malfoy could possess, Draco dropped lightly to the cobblestone floor, muttering something as he did. 

Grey eyes scanned the darkness, straining into the shadowed corners in a determined search for the unexpected interloper. 

Finding the effort akin to futility he decided to voice his suspicions.   
'Potter… Come out, this is not hide-and-seek,' came the usual drawl. 'I promise that I won't tag you if you show yourself.'   
Harry noticed with a shock of surprise that Malfoy wasn't quite as composed as usual. 

He was trembling in his half-crouching position on the ground, and his hair was in disarray, half-covering his shiny tearstained face.   
A blood-stained dagger glinted in the corner where it had been dropped by Draco as he had whirled around in surprise.   
Even in the darkened room, Harry could still see the crimson gleam of wet blood coating the curvature of the sharp metallic instrument.…   
Harry hesitated, and then took a couple of tentative steps forward.   
On the one hand this was Malfoy, the stuck-up git who had never yet let an opportunity pass to get Harry in trouble, or to belittle him in front of his peers. 

But then again, there was something very very wrong about the desperate, pain-ridden look in Malfoy's eyes, and his heaving crouched body. 

And, the thought voiced itself in the back of his head, what was Malfoy doing with a knife? 

One which looked recently used at that…   
Harry's eyes kept straying back to it… surely... not even Malfoy would be demented enough to... to... murder somebody?   
If so, the unwelcome thought pushed itself into his head; he would most definitely be next.   
'Potter! Show yourself!' Malfoy snarled.   
Cloaked within the tower's shadows, Harry shivered, trying to figure out what to do. Malfoy still had a crazed look in his eyes, and looked quite capable of disposing of an enemy or two before breakfast.   
Just what was Malfoy capable of? So far he'd only ever taunted Harry… 

Yet Harry knew from first-hand experience just what Malfoy's father was capable of. 

He knew for a fact that he was a Death Eater, and one which was rotten to the core.   
And Draco was a Malfoy after all, even if he was still a young one.   
Yet, Harry could not deny to himself, that Malfoy looked genuinely tortured, more than anything else. Harry felt sure that he could see deep suffering in the endless depths of Draco's icy-grey eyes.   
Harry breathed in sharply, releasing the dull pain in his chest, suddenly realizing he had been holding his breath while making all those observations.   
As much as he hated the stupid git, he couldn't bring himself to walk away now, leaving Malfoy in this state.   
He just had to find out what was going on, and after all, he had faced Voldemort himself on more than one occasion, and survived hadn't he? Just how much damage could one half-trained wizard do?   
Even if Malfoy was rumoured to have been trained in the Dark Arts, Harry reminded himself, his more sensible side coming through.   
And even if they were alone in a deserted part of the castle, with Malfoy in such a disturbing state…   
Deciding it was now or never, with one hand on his wand, Harry de-cloaked himself with one swift movement, revealing himself to Malfoy, and suddenly feeling rather vulnerable, robbed of the cloak's comforting heaviness.   
Cautiously he approached the distraught boy before him, all the while pocketing his valuable cloak. 

As he neared, Harry noticed just how ill-composed Malfoy really was; almost as surprising was the look on his face. 

One of someone impressed.   
'I didn't think you'd do it,' Draco stated, 'who would have thought, eh Potter?' 

The object of this critique took it all in stride; this was the type of banter he expected after all.

It was almost… comforting.   
Draco's eyes flickered, and his head moved sharply back, as if something had suddenly snapped inside of him…   
Harry paused, confused at the sudden shift of expression in Draco's eyes.   
Malfoy slowly pushed himself up off the floor, straightening out his robes with a grimace of disgust at the dust coating its rim.   
Harry waited for the insult he knew would come, but Draco seemed strangely disorientated. 

His eyes darted around as if expecting more Gryffindors to leap out of the shadows any second, and his usual aloof manner had been replaced with one which, if Harry didn't know better, he would say was uncertainty.   
Draco Malfoy, unsure?   
Harry almost laughed out loud at the thought. Yet there was something very different about Draco tonight. 

He lacked his usual arrogance.   
Harry had never properly seen Draco's face before when he wasn't glaring or snickering at him… he really did have quite well-defined features… almost nice-looking, when his face wasn't twisted into an expression of disgust.   
Draco was still standing in silence, his eyes now fixed on Harry's. 

It was starting to make Harry feel a bit uncomfortable; he suddenly realized that he was standing in front of Malfoy in nothing more than a pair of Dudley's hand-me-down pajamas. 

Just what was Malfoy doing up here anyway? 

This was, after all, Harry's special place.   
And now Malfoy was languishing around, filthing it up.

* * * * *


	3. Chapter Two Coiled to Strike – Revoluti...

Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

* * * * *

Shedding Skins – _Chapter Two_

Coiled to Strike – Revolution of the Mind's Eye

Suddenly irrationally furious, Harry took a step forward and snarled

 'What are you doing here Malfoy'? 

Draco's eyes darkened, and he seemed to be eyeing Harry with his usual dislike. 

'None of you goddamn business Potter. Why don't you just run along now, and go back to doing whatever it is that you and your little Gryffindor friends do in your pathetic lives'. 

Harry glared at back at him, not quite knowing what to say.   
'Actually, us little Gryffindors tend to be asleep at such an ungodly hour. 

So, instead of sleeping, why-are-you-here?' Harry emphasized the last of his sentence, hoping that it would sink in… It didn't.

'Maybe the same reason you're up here Potter, though I dread the thought of being on the same wavelength as you. Answer me this, Potter- why are you here?'

'Because… I'm not telling you that!' Harry snapped.

'Then I suggest you leave Potter, before I get irritated.'   
'Well I'm not going to,' Harry said stubbornly. 'I have as much right to be here as you'.   
Malfoy sighed. 'Why, Potter, do you always manage to turn up in the most inconvenient times possible?' 

Harry remained silent, his eyes lingering on the tearstains covering Draco's cheekbones. 

'Fine then,' Harry said, exasperated and weary from lack of sleep, and from putting up with Draco's stubbornness. 

'How about I'll give you my reason, and in return, you give me yours?'

'How about you sod off, and mind your own fucking business for once? Or is that too hard for you? 

Always have to be a hero, don't you Potter? Help the needy, save the weak? I'll have you know Potter; I am not like those worms you risk your neck for. I am not weak, and I don't need you, or your help. 

So just walk away, and leave me alone.'

 However, by the end of Draco's unusually emotional speel, he had lost most of his ferocity. 

His final words were almost a plea. 

Harry wasn't quite sure how to react, the Draco he knew, would never act like this. Not even hint at it. It wasn't in him. This usual outburst almost made him seem human. Almost. 

'Just leave' Draco whispered, his voice breaking. 

Harry stared at him, stunned. What change had come over Draco Malfoy to make him act in such a bizarre way? He shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. Should he just go? 

'Malfoy', he said tentatively, 'has… has something happened? I mean…' 

'Nothing has happened Potter. Life happened', Draco said coldly.

'Not that you would know anything about that, what with half the wizarding world fawning all over you.' 

Harry stared at Malfoy squarely. 'If you think, Malfoy, that I don't know the hardships of life, then you are sadly mistaken. Everyone seems to think that I live some kind of fucking charmed existence!' he burst out, eyes flashing in frustration. 

Draco was slightly shocked at Harry's outburst, not to mention his bad language, but he wasn't about to let Harry see that. 

'Oh yes Potter, I can see it now, he sneered. It must be so incredibly difficult to deal with all that fame and admiration. 

Not to mention your many fans practically dribbling all over themselves in their efforts to praise you'. 

Harry looked straight at him. 

'Is that what you really think my life is like?' 

Draco paused, 'Why would I care what your life is like Potter? Even in the unlikely circumstance that it actually mattered to me, what difference would it make?'

I will still be the one who everyone loves to hate, and you will remain Harry Potter, the hero,' he scoffed. 

'Oh sod off Malfoy! You know it's not like that.'

Draco didn't bother to answer, suddenly looking rather weary of the never-ending banter. 

'We always push away the very ones who could save us…' He mumbled to himself. 

'What!' Harry exclaimed, getting irritated again. 'What are you on about now Malfoy?'

'It really doesn't matter… nothing matters Potter. Good night' Draco said formally, walking past a flabbergasted Harry, and disappearing swiftly down the stairs. 

Harry stared after him. 'Well!' he said out loud, shaking his head in amazement at what he had just witnessed. 

Back in the comfort of the Gryffindor dorm, Harry considered his most recently appropriated item- Draco Malfoy's blood-stained dagger. It was beautiful, despite what it was.

Light danced over the carefully polished blade, highlighting the now dry blood. Its handle comprised of twin vipers intertwining and finally twisting out, as if to strike, forming the hilt of the weapon.

Now problems started to arise within Harry, now that his common sense was beginning to reform once again. How was he going to give this back? Where was he going to hide it until that time? But what seemed one question bothered him, a lot more than the others ricocheting inside his tired head.

Why had he taken it in the first place?

What if Draco had come back for it? He could have been spotted; caught by Filch. Leaving a dagger in the possession of someone that deranged could never be a good thing. He could hurt himself further, assuming that the blood was indeed Draco's. The murder theory would seem unrealistic, even to Ron. Well, maybe not, pondered Harry turning his gaze toward his friend the hint of a smile playing across his features.

Distracted, I'm being distracted… holding his face, as if to hold himself together, he recollected his thoughts. Think like Hermione, think like Hermione, he mentally commanded himself. He needed to figure this out; being analytical seemed the best way. But whichever way he looked at it, no matter which way, it always seemed as though he were doing this for Draco's sake.

Finally he came to a solution. The kind that comes when one is too sick of thinking and just agrees with the one thought that has floated by one time too many. He had done it because he wasn't the same as Draco, and he was the one helping him. Not the other way around, something Draco had hinted at earlier. He was not the kind to leave something so incriminating around, hoping in vain it will be found, just to watch in perverted glee as 'justice' was brought down upon them.

That would become his reason, until morning, when his thoughts would be relentlessly resorted and his head somewhat cleared. Morning, it would be morning soon. And with that thought, Harry stopped twisting in turning, and eventually calmed as sleep took him over. As he fell prey to dreamless slumber.

Being unconscious had done what Harry had predicted. He felt slightly rejuvenated, he could think clearly and… the previous night still made no logical sense. Being surrounded by incessant chatter and noises too loud for someone freshly woken, weren't helping him in the slightest. But that was always the way, in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

'… and then the Cannons' seeker did the Wronskei Feint. It didn't work though, but it looked brilliant! Until he smashed into the pitch and they had to forfeit… Hey Harry? Are you listening at all?' A groan and a mumble were the only responses Ron Weasley received. The second youngest Weasley waved his hand in front of his non responsive friend's face. ''Ello? Anyone in there? Why are you looking over at the Slytherin table so intently anyway?'

'Huh?'

'Finally, I was starting to think that you had entered into a state of torpor,' Hermione huffed, exasperated. 'Ron has been attempting to gain your attention for a good four and a half minutes now, did you know?' Ron nodded briskly, in accordance to the statement. 'So why are you so dazed, Harry? You haven't been sleeping again, have you?' Hermione's ability to be so perceptive was definitely a double edged sword. It either worked for you, or against you. 'No, I haven't been sleeping that well, it's really nothing. Don't worry so mu….'

'Is it your scar? Has it been hurting again? Maybe you-know-who is out and about again…' And Ron, how quickly that boy could jump at conclusions was beyond him. But it was an endearing trait, albeit a little trying. 'Don't worry Ron, Hermione…' He acknowledged his two best friends accordingly. 'I just have a little on my mind. It really is nothing to worry about. Really.' He repeated himself, mainly for Ron's benefit, and to sound convincing enough for Hermione. 'And guys… thanks.'

I just need a little time.

As fate would have it, he didn't even need that. It was time for mail, and the many owls owned by the collective students and their families bombarded the recipients with letters, and packages of all sorts. Harry was used to not getting mail. He despised his relatives, and the only people he wished to see, he could, on a day to day basis.

That in itself would explain why surprise had shown so clearly on his face, when a large, stark-white, albino owl hovered before him. It nipped at the bindings on its wing, freeing the note fastened there. Before long if had already turned and left.

'Smart owl,' Ron attempted to say with a mouth full of various foods-which-must-not-be-named. Harry agreed but saved a response in order to collect the neatly rolled parchment. Unrolling it curiously, he peered down at the elegant cursive awaiting him.

_'I want my blade back, Potter.'_

Harry scowled, lifting his head ever so slightly to glance over at the Slytherin corner of the hall. 

Icy steel eyes stared back at him unflinchingly, daring him to outright refuse the order. 

Harry, face unresponsive, slowly crushed the parchment into a ball in his clenched fist. Tucking it into his pocket, he casually resumed eating his well-buttered toast. 

Ron and Hermione, who until this point had been busy arguing about Ron's eating manners, or lack thereof, now turned to Harry with questioning looks on their faces.

'Snuffles?' Hermione asked in low undertone, deliberately ignoring Ron's noisy chewing.

'No', Harry muttered 'Nothing important'. Or rather _no-one important he thought pointedly to himself. _

For a brief moment, he felt a stab of guilt for keeping the true nature of the note from his two best-friends. He just didn't feel like explaining to them this early in the morning his rather unusual encounter with Malfoy the previous night. He promised himself, that as soon as he figured out what the hell was going on, he would explain it all to them. But until then… well there were just too many confusing thoughts going through his head. It just didn't make sense… 


	4. Chapter Three Nature’s Inherent Betraya...

Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

* * * * *

Shedding Skins – _Chapter Three_

Nature's Inherent Betrayal, Fate's Sadistic Desire

Harry walked to potions feeling vaguely dissatisfied. With what, he did not know. He was in an irritable mood, and knowing that a double potions was on its way was doing nothing to alleviate his rapidly worsening bad mood. 

As Ron and Hermione argued about something which Harry hadn't quite caught the gist of, angry grey clouds swirled threateningly over-head. 

As Harry turned the corner, he walked straight into the gaze of none other than Draco Malfoy, who was leaning suavely against the dungeon wall, eyes cool and face as stony as the wall he leant against. 

'Why, why, if it isn't the mighty Potter and his loyal entourage,' Draco drawled slowly, venom lacing his every word. 

'If I'm so mighty, Malfoy, why don't you show some respect?' Harry retaliated, with the beginning traces of anger darkening his voice. 

'Make me.' Draco shot back with hatred in his voice, as the surrounding Slytherins started grouping around him, snickering appreciatively at his latest attack on the infamous Harry Potter. 

'What's your problem now Malfoy?' Ron yelled, wishing that Malfoy would give him just one good reason to wipe that smirk off his ugly Slytherin face. And as far as Ron was concerned, when it came to Malfoy, reasons came in every form. 

'I'm not the one with problems Weasly,' Draco said, snickering as the red-head's face started flaming the same colour as his hair. 

'Leave it Ron,' Harry said calmly, 'Malfoy's not worth your time'. 

If possible, Draco's eyes darkened ever further, contrasting sharply against his pale flesh. 

'On the contrary, Potter. That weasel is _hardly worth my time.'_

Without waiting to see the effect of this cutting remark, Draco strolled casually into the Potions classroom, leaving behind him the still snickering Slytherins, and Ron, who, nearly epileptic with rage was being restrained by Hermione. 

'You _know he always provokes us before Potions in the hope Snape will walk in Ron! I mean, honestly, you just have to learn to ignore him and he won't find it so satisfying anymore. Really!' she exclaimed in exasperation. _

'I'm gonna pound that arrogance out of Malfoy someday' Ron muttered angrily shaking his fist at thin air, not hearing a word Hermione was saying. 

Harry sighed, shaking his head. The day was just getting better and better. 

*       *       *       *       *

Draco sat alone at the front of the Potions classroom, fuming. Such black hostility radiated off him that even Crabbe and Goyle had found the good sense to sit somewhere else. Draco was furious at himself for his weakness the previous night. And of all people to find him in that state, it had to be… _Potter. _

Draco had always prided himself, among many other things, on his unshakable hold on his smooth demeanour. 

Now, beyond furious at himself for losing his grasp on his emotions the night before, he felt like smashing his fist into the stone wall beside him. Maybe the sudden bone-splitting pain would make him regain his control. 

Draco didn't lose control often, but when he did, it was truly a sight to see. 

When Draco Malfoy got angry, the powers that be cringed, and all mortals fled. 

Draco threw an icy glare in Potter's direction. Harry, his gaze drawn to Draco's seemingly through the mere power of Draco's hostility, gazed calmly back at him, his eyes settling rather disconcertingly deep inside Draco's own. 

Potter seemed to fail to understand his expected fleeing role. 

With no shift in expression, Harry lowered his gaze back onto his scroll in front of him, as if Draco wasn't even worth the effort of looking at.

So now Potter thought he knew where to find him. 

That was not the case. That… weakness, was nothing more than a momentary slip-up. He had simply, lost control… thinking that no-one would ever think to go looking for him there, in the highest room in the astronomy tower, for that short while, Draco had lost 

himself.

He had just been so weary, so tired of maintaining this constant façade. If anyone ever saw what really went on inside him, they would despise him in an instant. 

Draco couldn't stand to be looked down upon by those pathetic creatures that surrounded him. 

Even if he had nothing else, but his false pride, at least he could hold his superiority over these weaklings. 

It is them who are despicable, Draco thought to himself. They will never understand what true power is. They will never know the sacrifices he had made to survive. 

He almost wished they did, just so once, he could get the sort of subservient respect he deserved. 

He refused to be weak. It was in opposition to every lesson that he had suffered since a child, at the hands of his father. Weakness, was _never acceptable in a Malfoy. _

He would sooner die than let it control him. 

As he had attempted to last night, before Potter had barged in, wrecking his plans…

Draco suddenly realized that during his dark musings, he had been unconsciously stroking the deep gashes on his wrists. His finger-tip was stained deep red from the dried-up blood which had caked over the recent wounds. At Potters intrusion, Draco had been forced to quickly mutter a congealment charm. 

Desperate though he had been, Draco refused to die painfully on the ground at the feet of his most hated enemy. 

Feeling more centred then he had in days, Draco realised that if he didn't want to try Snape's leniency with him, he should make some pretence of copying down the notes the potions master was dictating. 

Well once again, against the odds he was still alive. And he had that 'blessing' to thank for of none other than, _Potter…_

He glared over in the direction of his foe, feeling stronger inside than he had in months.

Now, to get his antique dagger back off Potter. 

                                                         *        *        *        *        *

The day was finally coming to an end. 

Potions, to its credit was actually tolerable, maybe even enjoyable, regardless of having to choke down a double dose of the subject. 

Snape was too busy being silently concerned for his star pupil; the object of that concern was too self-contained to even throw a single snide remark anyone's way and that meant for a hassle free class, for once. 

Harry however couldn't enjoy it for what it was. 

Considering it was probably he who had inspired such a dark mood in Draco, he would most likely be dealing with _that_ mood and an exceptionally vindictive Mr Malfoy when he had sorted himself out.

I should be used to this, thought Harry. Such constant misfortune, ever since he could remember.

'Hey Ron.'

'What is it, Harry?' Ron inquired, turning slightly as they were making their way to the Gryffindor dorms.

'Sorry I've been, well, the way I have been today.' 

Ron smiled, 'No problem, pal.' All the while, patting Harry roughly on the back, to accentuate his point.

'Thanks, Ron. I don't know what I'd do without you guys sometimes.'

'Only sometimes?' Ron replied grinning. And with that they parted ways; Harry to bed and Ron to beg for History of Magic notes off Hermione.

Staring at the slightly illuminated ceiling, surrounded by his four poster bed, thoughts of his friends seeped across his ebbing consciousness. 

A small smile played its way over Harry's face, releasing him of his high tension. Seriously, thank you guys…

                                                         *   *   *   *   *

Morning came as it always did, before you can get enough sleep and way before nightfall. 

Today would be the day Draco got what was rightfully his; determinedly he slid out of bed and systematically dressed himself. 

As he sauntered about doing his morning routine he felt more agile, more alert, he finally felt composed. 

It would take more than a day to break Draco Malfoy and he wouldn't give it more than that, a day was enough. 

Victoriously he smirked into his reflection, yes, today he would finally get his knife back and more importantly- he would be in the clear. Then there'd be no chance of Harry Potter bringing him down, not until the next unfortunate coincidence, which was always bound to happen. 

But until then…

As Harry made his way to the Great Hall, delicious aromas wafted out of the double doors to greet him and Ron and Hermione, in tow behind him. 

Night had fallen quickly over the castle, the dark threatening clouds of the previous day having faded away to a clear deep night sky. 

As they sat down for dinner, Harry caught a glimpse of a head of silvery blond hair. Unconsciously he clenched at the item hidden inside his robes, strangely triumphant that the dagger was _still in his possession. _

Despite Malfoy's incessant bullying all day long; hinting at the lack of return of a certain object that belonged to _him, Harry had not relinquished even the slightest clue that he had the dagger on him. _

Silent, unknown mockery, if only Draco knew. 

He'd probably challenge Harry to a duel on the spot if he found out, in an attempt to remove it from his unconscious, hex-ridden form.

Disregarding the icy stares Harry knew so well, boring into the back of his head, dinner was actually proving to be quite an enjoyable affair. 

Just then, interrupting the interesting conversation that the Weasley twins were having with Ron, about Lee Jordan's recently inspired ideas for inter-species quidditch, Dumbledore stood up, gesturing for the students' attention.

'Students, if I may address you for a moment…' 

A pause revealing a still silence, as everyone's attention focused, even the twins'.    'Sorry for interrupting such a scrumptious meal, but this is quite urgent. 

For private matters which are not, and should not, be under the scrutiny of the rest of the student body- though no doubt they will be soon enough - could Harry Potter, come to my quarters as soon as he is finished here. 

Now please, resume your meal.' 

'What's that about Harry?' Ron asked curiously.

'I dunno' Harry replied honestly, feeling uncomfortable under all of those enquiring stares. 

'Maybe it's about You-Know-Who!' Ron exclaimed enthusiastically.

'Maybe it's about the poor standard of your homework,' Hermione said pointedly.

'How can it be poor? We always copy of you Hermione!' blurted Ron.

'Good one Ron. 

Well, I'm finished here. Guess I'll go see what Dumbledore wants. And Ron, shut up about the homework! It's hard enough to get her homework as it is.'

Harry made his way quickly to Dumbledore's office, if not only to escape Hermione's building wrath. 

Poor Ron, he thought, shaking his head. 

Drawing level with the crumbling stone gargoyle that marked the hidden entrance to Dumbledore's office and quarters, Harry suddenly realized that he didn't know the current password. 

As soon as the thought pushed itself into Harry mind, the door opened and Dumbledore himself stood at the entrance. With a swift gesture he turned and motioned for Harry to follow him.

'So Harry, any idea why I have summoned you here this evening?'

'Um… no sir... I don't,' stated Harry, sincerely baffled. 

And as to why his mentor always asked what he already knew, was beyond him. 

Harry ought to become more perceptive just from these chance meetings alone.

'Well, not surprising really, my boy,' beamed Dumbledore, eyes twinkling, 'I'm quite baffled myself.' 

This only served to confuse Harry further. 

If Dumbledore himself didn't know why he was here, then why had he specifically asked Harry to come see him?

Dumbledore, reading the confusion on Harry's face, smiled briefly at him, and with a sweeping gesture, indicated for Harry to follow him inside and to sit.

'Well Harry, something has come across my attention which I admit, I am rather surprised I wasn't aware of sooner.'

A slight pause and he pressed on. 'It is a very rare situation you have been placed in, Harry. You see, to be direct, you need to be re-sorted.'

'WHAT!' Harry exclaimed jumping to his feet.

'But Sir! Why? I mean, I'm in Gryffindor…'

'Harry' said Dumbledore, looking at him very earnestly, 'you must let the Sorting Hat determine your true house. And to be frank with you, I suspect, well… I suspect the Sorting Hat was, _meddled with in your first year.'_

'But…' Harry stammered, still trying to comprehend this rather unexpected direction his evening had taken, 'who would want to do that?'

'Someone who wanted very much to keep you out of their house, I would suspect,' Dumbledore replied seriously. 

'There's only one way to find out for sure Harry. You must be re-sorted. Please, return to your seat.'

Harry sat down in mute shock as Dumbledore strode briskly across the room, picking up the familiar and worn Sorting Hat. 

A deluge of confused thoughts rushed through Harry's mind. 

Why? 

Why is this happening now? 

It's been four years, and a lot has changed, but I've done so much! 

I've even faced Voldemort. 

I am a Gryffindor. 

I've proved that over and over again… Haven't I? 

That's where I belong, with my friends. With Ron, and Hermione. 

But where else could I go?

It just doesn't make sense. 

There's no other option than Gryffindor… Yes, I'm certain of it. 

Even though I'm being re-sorted, things will stay the same, they have to. 

Harry clung desperately to his last thought, as Dumbledore paced determinedly back towards him.

'Oh, this _is an interesting development…' The Sorting Hat drawled idly._

Dumbledore paused in front of Harry with slight apprehension swirling around in the depths of his brilliant blue eyes. 

Dumbledore slowly started to lower the hat over Harry's prone head.

 'SLYTHERIN!' The hat screamed out loud.

As if in slow-motion the room swirled, impossibly slow and infinitely dizzying. Harry crashed to the floor in a dead faint, the shock overwhelming him. 

The last sight he caught a blurry glimpse of, was the disappointment filling Dumbledore's face. 


	5. Chapter Four The Beast Within, Truth in...

Authors' note – This fic has been made for entertainment purposes only, and the authors, yes both of them, are not making any profit in any way. All characters (with exception to any original ones spawned of our own twisted imaginations) and the Harry Potter series belongs to J.K.Rowling and all those other people and corporations. Not us, unfortunately.

  This fic is dedicated to ourselves and each other. We know who we are, you just enjoy the fic!

Dylan's note - Hey, we really want to thank everyone who has read the fic and even more so to those that have reviewed it. You're all awesome. If not for you, this chapter probably would have started a few days later than it did. So, thanks for pumping me up to start this sooner! Anyways stay cool people.

…um, scratch the starting early bit… My computer broke down, for like a month, so I couldn't work on it. But thanks to my wonderful co-writer, you have the end of this chapter!! Enjoy!

* * * * *

Shedding Skins – _Chapter Four ___

The Beast Within, Truth in Misconceptions

Draco's boots echoed ominously inside the empty corridors leading to the infirmary. The rhythm matched his thoughts, steady and calculated.

He knew for certain that this school was going to Hell under Dumbledore's rule, when he found out he'd screwed up a sorting.

As if being a lover of mud-bloods wasn't bad enough.

But why would this new Slytherin be in the infirmary? Did Dumbledore now have to subdue students in order to accomplish a re-sorting?

If so, he wouldn't mind having another feisty individual alongside him…  The thought made Draco smile inwardly.

It would make life would be a little more interesting, at least while he chose to live it.

Then there was that other niggling question, whose answer could not be discerned by himself – Why had Dumbledore sent Draco?

Slowly, almost carefully, Draco swung open the medical wing's door to reveal a near empty room. Madam Pomfrey was sitting quietly thumbing through some documents in an absent-minded sort of way, so Draco just sauntered on in.

Immediately he locked eyes on a small first year girl nursing a bloody knee.

Draco covered the distance between them in a few large strides. He crouched, bringing himself to eye-level with the startled young Ravenclaw.

'I've come to take you away with me.' Draco stated, simply offering his hand.

Nile damn near shrieked with delight. A fifth year, and a handsome one at that, giving such a direction made the girl blush heavily.

And it was Draco Malfoy of all people!

That charming good looking boy that half her friends had crushes on!

Nile thought she had died and gone to a very very nice place. At a complete loss for words, she tentatively grabbed his hand.

'Well well well… Malfoy, just when I thought you couldn't get any lower. Hitting on first years, didn't know you were that desperate.' 

It was as though someone had shot him through the chest with an ice-cold heart-sized bullet, but worse.

Draco whirled around to face the familiar voice of Harry Potter.

'As a matter of fact Potter, I'm not hitting on this girl at all. I'll leave such questionable acts to yourself.'

'Oh I wouldn't dare. Not when you're so good at it,' Harry motioned to Nile, still flustered, blushing prettily and still holding determinedly onto Draco's hand.

A look, almost like fear, flashed like lightning through Draco's eyes. 

Beautiful, powerful, but gone in an instant.

He turned quickly to the swooning first-year hanging off his arm. 

'You mean… you're not…' Draco started quietly.

'Oh! Mr Malfoy! I didn't see you come in,' intruded Madam Pomfrey's sharp voice, 'you're here for…'

It was as if time slowed, just enough for Draco to grasp the situation in its horrible entirety. Not _him_, it can't be, he thought desperately.

'You're here for Harry.'

'Oh, just kill me now…' Draco muttered under his breath, sighing. But the resident nurse was not finished yet.

'His things are in the corner, you are to help him move his belongings,' with that Madam Pomfrey pointed to the stack of cases, Hedwig's cage and the rest of Harry's items. After these instructions were passed on, she moved to tend to Nile, who had been rudely snapped back to reality by the jabbing pains in her leg.

As if Draco forgetting about her wasn't bad enough.

Reluctantly Draco approached the new Slytherin – The Boy Who Lived, Twice.

'If it isn't our worst nightmare come true, eh Potter? Funny how things are always that much worse than you think they could ever be.'

It's not exactly easy for me either, Harry thought bitterly. 

He was still feeling a little overwhelmed, now that the adrenalin-rush of the initial encounter with Malfoy was long gone.

When Harry looked up, he saw Draco lift up two of the larger cases. Feeling the weight and getting ready to move.

'You should hurry. They can't move themselves.'

Harry sat still, stunned.

'Malfoy!! Wait damn you!!!'

Harry raced after Draco, who was striding away at a quick pace, clutching tightly onto Harry's cases and Hedwig's cage. 

As Harry finally caught up to Draco, he quickly muttered a mobiliarbus charm, watching  Draco stop in confusion as the objects he was carrying suddenly jerked themselves free of his grasp and began hovering a few inches below eye-level.

Draco muttered an oath under his breath, the luggage _could_ move itself, he should have known... 

Harry Potter had made him look the fool.

But never again.

'No need to show off Potter. A bit of manual work never killed anyone but Muggles.'

'I wasn't showing off! If it weren't for you I'd be carrying them myself! I mean…' Harry trailed off, realizing he had said too much.

Draco being so forward and helpful had unknowingly made his guard slip.

Harry could now imagine just how Hagrid had felt, accidentally letting information slip back when he was in first year about the Philosopher's Stone.

'Hmph,' so the genius has a muse, thought Draco sourly. Pausing briefly to charm the cargo into following him.

Harry's material belongings.

Acting in such a subservient manner for his nemesis nearly had the effect of making him seriously ill.

But there were some things you had to do.

* * * * *  

They walked in silence through endless dank mildew-encrusted corridors. 

Hot flames burned at various places along the stone walls, their wax burnt firmly onto the stone supposedly through centuries of their existence there. Harry supposed they were like eternal-burning candles they had in the Great Hall at nights. 

Erratic shadows danced crazily over the walls and anyone passing through, giving the impression that reality itself wasn't solid, but was subject to the whims of some hidden unknown force that controlled what they shed light onto, and what they shied away from. 

Harry could hear dripping water from somewhere he couldn't see, the sound amplified by the hollow emptiness of the place. He shivered a little. 

The sound echoed through his head long after it had faded out of his range of hearing. 

It was creepy down here, in the Slytherin domain. 

Harry stumbled as Draco shot out an arm, bringing him to a stop. He turned to glare at him, but was stopped by the look in Malfoy's eyes.

'Now that we're here _Potter', he said, fiercely, 'tell me, why the FUCK are you in Slytherin?' _

Harry glared back at him, suddenly remembering just why he hated Malfoy so much. 

'It wasn't my choice', he said bitterly, 'Dumbledore seemed to think I needed resorting.'

At Malfoy's arched eyebrow he continued, 'apparently SOME-ONE meddled with the sorting hat in first year, to make sure I didn't get put into a certain house…'

'What!' Draco said, amusement curling around his lips. 'Are you implying that it was ME, Potter?'

'Of course not Malfoy', Harry said coldly, 'I would never presume to believe that you possessed that kind of skill. I was referring to another, by the same name.' 

Harry's head was beginning to pound with what he assumed was the start of a spectacular headache. 

The day's events were catching up with him, and he was beyond caring that he was making a scene in front of the dungeons with Malfoy. It was not like there was anyone around to hear anyways. 

Let Malfoy try to bring his wrath down upon him. Just let him try. Harry wasn't going to turn the other cheek anymore. He no longer had his Gryffindor honour to uphold. 

At that thought, a stabbing pain of loss made itself felt in his chest. 

He had lost his claim to Gryffindor… 

What did that make him now? Harry Potter, the Hero of Slytherin? 

Malfoy was looking outraged. 'You leave my Father out of this Potter. As if he would even waste his time on you, don't be preposterous.'

'Oh no, of course he wouldn't', Harry retaliated sarcastically, 'what with him being a Death Eater under Voldemort's control, and them trying to kill me all my life.  No, I can really see how you came to that conclusion.' 

'You have no idea what my Father is, Potter,' Draco said, eyes blazing with furious intensity. 

'Don't talk about that which you do not understand, you'll only make your ignorance even more blatantly obvious.

And as for the Sorting Hat Potter, it can _only be meddled with from the inside. Haven't you ever read Hogwarts: A History? It takes a very powerful witch or wizard to break its natural conviction. To impose their will over its'. _

If it placed you in the wrong house _Potter, then it is due to your own manipulations, not any member of my family, dead or living.' _

Harry was staring at him very strangely, so Draco decided to continue while he had the upper hand. 

'Quite a cunning stunt you pulled off, eh Potter? Perhaps you do belong in Slytherin more than I ever thought'. 

Throughout Draco's spiel Harry had stood fuming, refusing to give any hint of the anxiety that was rising within him. 

Were Malfoy's harsh words true? 

After all, he had kind of coerced the Sorting Hat into putting him into Gryffindor hadn't he? 

It had initially wanted to put him in Slytherin… 

Until he had wished for Gryffindor with every bit of will power he had. 

Chanted it over and over in his head. 

Why had he been fighting so hard against what it had wanted? 

Was it simply because the house had a reputation for turning out dark wizards, and the fact that Malfoy was already in it?

Or had he had a deeper reason for resisting the Sorting Hats decree…

Had he always known that he belonged in Slytherin? 

Where did he really belong? 

Gryffindor or Slytherin?

What was really inside him? Deep inside him…

Hatred, pain and despair… Hardly qualities befitting of a Gryffindor now were they? 

He had had a dark childhood, he now realised that. One filled with neglect and abuse. 

He had always felt so alone… So lost and unsure of his place in the world. 

So unwanted… 

And then there was the murderous rage that had been building up in him ever since Cedric's death the previous year. 

He would like nothing more than to strangle Voldemort's scrawny neck with his bare hands, watch him gasp and splutter as he choked the life out of him. 

That thought gave rise to a small chuckle. 

The type which Harry normally never allowed to pass through his lips. 

After all, it was hardly fitting for a Gryffindor to be laughing evilly over sadistic fantasies now was it? 

Harry's mind snapped suddenly back to the present situation; visions of Voldemort writhing pathetically in his grasp fading.  Now… 

Now, he was a Slytherin. 

Perhaps he always had been. 

Well fuck them all. 

Voldemort, Dumbledore… and everyone else who had expected him to be a certain person for so many years. 

Expected everything of him, yet never given him anything…

So many years of trying his hardest to please everyone around him…

And where did it lead him? To higher expectations…

To Slytherin…

Well at least now, he could be what he wanted to be. 

He glanced back up at Malfoy. 

Draco was looking at Harry as if he had gone insane.  

'Malfoy', Harry said calmly. 

He gestured towards the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. 

'Lead the way.' 

* * * * *


End file.
